When Fairytales Go Wrong
by Araissa
Summary: Not everyone can get a perfect ending, or a conventional ending. These are just a few examples.
1. Sleeping Handsom

Once upon a time, there was a king and queen, and they were deeply saddened by their lack of children. They prayed night and day for a child—for no one had ever explained to them how children are made. Eventually, after a very awkward conversation with the king's chief advisor, the queen became pregnant; and nine months later, she gave birth to a baby boy.

At the baby's christening, the twelve faerie godmothers from the kingdom came to bestow their gifts on the child. Actually, there were thirteen godmothers, but seeing as the thirteenth had all but vanished from the face of the earth for fifty years, no one bothered to invite her. Regardless, everything went off rather well. Until the faerie godmothers went about blessing the child, for none of them had been informed that the baby was, in fact, a boy.

So, the prince was blessed/doomed to become the most beautiful person in the world, have the wit of an angel, have perfect grace, dance better than anyone alive, sing like a nightingale, and play all sorts of wonderful music, as well as all other manner of things desirable in a woman but odd to find in a man.

It just so happens, that right before the last godmother could give her gift to the very un-masculine prince, the thirteenth faerie decided to crash the party. She strode up to the prince and declared that he would prick his finger on a spindle and die on his eighteenth birthday. With that, the faerie left, and everyone started crying. The last godmother, angry at being shown up, decided that she should try and lessen the curse. She couldn't remove the curse, for she was the youngest faerie, and the one who bestowed the curse was the oldest, and therefore, far more powerful. So, she made it so that the price (whom most still thought was actually a princess because no one had bothered to verify the gender) wouldn't die when he pricked his finger, but instead would fall asleep for a hundred years.

The king, after the christening was complete and all the guests left, set a law that it was forbidden for anyone to use a spindle, under pain of death.

About eighteen years later, the king an queen were out visiting friends at the neighboring kingdom and the very feminine prince was left to his own devices for the day. It just so happens, that as he wandered about the castle, he heard a noise coming from one of the tower rooms. Up he went to find the cause of the noise. Inside was an old woman with a strange device he had never seen.

"Hullo, Granny," said the prince in his ladylike voice. "What are you doing?"

"I'm spinning," she replied.

"May I try?" the prince asked. He reached his hand out towards the spinning wheel, and no sooner did he touch it that his finger was pierced by the spindle. As the curse took effect, the prince fell down in a faint.

The old woman ran screaming out of the room, her old age obviously hadn't altered her vocal capacity nor her overall speed. The king and queen, having just come home, heard the old woman and ran up to find her. She showed them the body of the price. He lay perfectly still, and save for the rising and falling of his chest, looked dead. The faerie godmother who had saved the prince's life was instantly informed and came to set about making those one hundred years as comfortable as possible for the boy.

The faerie tapped her wand on the castle floor, and everyone (save the king and queen) instantly fell asleep. The fires died, the animals began to snooze, and if anyone had been doing anything dangerous—like cutting vegetables for a soup—were able to remove themselves from the situation first. Then, the godmother set the prince on his large bed, with his loyal Papillion, Mops, sleeping at the foot of it. After kissing their child on the forehead, the king and queen left the palace.

Within the day, a forest of thorns had sprouted up around the castle.

A hundred years latter, the daughter of another family, a very masculine princess (for her faerie godmothers were under the impression that she was a boy) was out hunting near the castle. She neared the thorns, having always wondered what was on the other side, when the thorns opened up to form a path for her. The princess glanced at her horse, skeptically.

"Are you going to stay here, like the good horse I hope you are?"

The animal nodded, knowing it was either be obedient or be tied to the thorns to keep from running. And at the moment, the horse was more willing to stand around and graze at the fresh bits of grass than be tethered to the thorns.

Slowly, the princess dismounted and wandered through the path. On she went, occasionally stumbling across the skeletons of others who had wanted to see what was inside. Still, she continued on.

Eventually, she came to the palace. It was an odd, quiet, ghostlike thing. The princess walked through the gardens, the flowers all turning their bright blooms towards her. She stepped inside the great hall, the fires in the sconces leaping to life as her footfalls neared them. Cautiously, the girl continued on, up towards one of the towers. Every door she tried was locked, save for a select few which led her eventually to the prince's room

Inside went the princess, up to the sleeping prince. She smiled at him. For as masculine as she was, he was that feminine. 'Perhaps,' she thought, 'he could….' The princess frowned; she didn't have much luck with princes. Men didn't like being with someone who was less feminine than they were.

With an odd feeling of hope, the princess bent down and kissed him. The prince opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Is that you, my princess?" the boy said sweetly.

With the end of the curse, the inhabitants of the palace slowly awakened. The prince and princess up in his room, talking for several hours. Later, someone came and pulled them both out and had them married in the castle chapel. Though it took them a great while to determine which one belonged in the wedding dress.


	2. Beauty and the Beast

A/N: Wow… there really isn't any excuse I can think of for how long this took. You may thank RodentofUnsusalSize for finally bribing me to get my act together. This is their Valentines Day gift.

Also—as I'm paranoid that I'll get a few angry reviews—spousal abuse is not something to be laughed at and is only used in this to further explain Joan's opinion about marriage.

* * *

Once upon a time there was a young woman named Joan—it should be noted that her parents were quite ugly and expected their daughter to follow in their aesthetically-pleasing-challenged footsteps—but as this woman was more attractive than nearly every woman alive—it seems that when combined her parents' genes somehow became pretty—everyone called her "Beauty." 

As it so happens, Beauty loved hunting; anytime there was a fuzzy animal on the property Beauty would destroy it in a violent way that shouldn't be described as it would make most people sick. This is also the fate that befell the creepy neighbor boy. Yet, despite her violent tendencies, Beauty was still a very sought after lady—showing that humanity as a whole is shallow and really doesn't care about personality providing a person is attractive.

One day while her father—from here on named Alan—was on one of his brisk morning forest walks he came upon a large castle.

"Oh what a beautiful castle," he said aloud. "I think I shall go explore it, throw caution to the wind. Jolly good fun."

Alan ventured into the castle gardens, sniffing every lovely flower he saw. He reached a large rose bush after a short while and felt he simply had to take one bloom for his daughter—who, despite killing every bee or butterfly she saw liked flowers—so she might be happy for a time.

He reached out his work ravaged hand, rough calluses bruising the petals of several flowers; his thin, claw like fingers grasped around one poor stem. It snapped in two, ending the full life the rose had lead up until that point.

"Who dares pick my roses?!" came a fearsome growl from the shadows.

Alan looked up and clapped his hands. "Oh, wonderful: a terrifying beastie to chase me around, rip off my head and wallow about in my blood! I say, I've not been in such an awful situation in years. Splendid." Alan paused and thought for a moment. "Hear me good…sir, I'm old and not very tender, eating me would be hellish; I do, however, have a daughter—"

The Beast held up a furry paw to stop Alan from continuing down that macabre train of thought. "I'd much rather exchange you for your daughter. Bring her here and you may go free."

Needing no more invitation, Alan turned and fled back to his homestead.

"Where have you been?!" screeched his wife when he opened the door.

"Shut it, Meg. Where's Beauty?"

Meg went back to washing the dishes. "You could say something along the lines of 'sorry to keep you waiting, dear wife, but I brought you some flowers.' Or 'I'll make dinner tonight.' You know, something nice like that."

Alan, taking the stereotype of brutish, oppressive male to heart, slapped her across the side of her face.

"A possum crossed the property line an hour ago—"

"Out back then?" Alan asked, rubbing his red hand.

"By the pond."

Alan dashed out of the house and began looking for his daughter. After a few minutes, he spotted her dark hair amidst the bulrushes.

"Beauty," he said in a whisper. "I've found a challenge—"

The dark dot vanished and reappeared by her father a second later. With plump, rosy lips spread in a sadistic smile and a glow on her face from the thrill of the hunt, Beauty was indeed stunning. Scary beyond all reason, but stunning nonetheless.

"Dear father, don't throw the word 'challenge' about—"

Alan silenced her by holding up a hand and began describing the Beast.

When he finished, Beauty ran into the house and set about gathering the necessary supplies. She came back out a few minutes later with a small arsenal of knives, daggers, a sword, bow and arrows, a hatchet or two and a battle axe strapped to her. Under her plain, cotton dress, Beauty wore a black catsuit to provide a large range of movement.

"Let's go," she said without emotion.

The two ventured off to the castle, Beauty fashioning a long stick into a spear along the way.

"Now, Beauty," Alan said once his daughter was no longer focused on her makeshift spear. "When we get there, it might be a good idea for you to _not_ try to kill him immediately—"

"Why?" she asked, shocked.

"Because, if you fail, he'll kill me before I can even get out of the main hall."

They entered the castle and were greeted by several trunks filled with treasures with a note telling Alan to take the chests home and for Beauty to stay in the hall. Alan tied the chests together and dragged them off.

"Goodbye, Sandra," he shouted as the door shut.

"It's 'Joan!'" Beauty hollered back. "And call me 'Beauty!'" With a sigh, she grabbed her bow and a poisoned tipped arrow. "Oh, mister Beast," she called into the cavernous entry hall. "I'm ready for you to eat me!"

A large creature lumbered out of the shadows. Teeth larger than a man's hand stuck out of his mouth, a thick mane framed his head with a pair of bullhorns jutting out of the mass of hair. Overall, he looked quite cuddly.

"Greetings, maiden," he said politely, if in a deep and rough voice. "You have free range of my castle and—"

Beauty yelled and shot three more arrows at the creature. "Die demon!"

All four arrows missed, but just barely. Beast sighed. "Oh, come on! Is that really necessary?"

A hatchet skimmed the side of his mane. Beast let out a roar and ran away. Beauty grabbed her battle axe and ran after him. "What's the matter, you overgrown housecat? Don't tell me you're afraid of a girl!"

"Girl? No," his voice echoed through the hallway. "Sharp things being thrown at me? Yes."

"What? So I'm not terrifying? I'm not scary enough to instill fear in your heart? How is that supposed to make me feel?"

Beast was quiet for a moment. "Good…I think."

Beauty frowned; this was getting her nowhere. "Are you going to try and eat me or not?"

"Despite the fact that nearly every inch of me is covered in thick fur and I have teeth the size of your head doesn't mean I eat people." He paused for a moment. "How is that supposed to make _me_ feel?"

"Do you even have feelings?" Beauty asked, growing quite aggravated.

"Just because I eat hippies doesn't mean I don't have feelings," he replied matter-of-factly.

"I thought you said that you didn't eat people."

"Hippies aren't people."

Beauty groaned. She really wasn't in the mood to deal with a thick headed man who believed he didn't need to shave. "I'm going to take nap," she informed the Beast. "If you follow me, so help me God, I will rip out your throat and…on second thought I'll just neuter you."

Over the next several weeks, Beauty didn't give up on trying to find and kill the Beast (who hadn't made an actual appearance save for the first one). Every time she caught a glimpse of him, Beauty would run after him screaming and waving a spear, sword, or axe. Beast, on the other hand, was quite a gentleman, even giving up hippies in an effort to make Beauty less homicidal towards him.

Sadly, all his efforts were for naught. The only change was that she didn't run as quickly.

In an attempt to make Beauty happy—and, perhaps, redirect some of her anger—Beast left her a map and instructions to reach the hunting lodge and what areas she could slaughter the relatively defenseless wildlife in. As this act seemed to improve their relationship, Beast decided to propose.

Beauty promptly pulled out a cross bow and tried to shoot him through the eye.

"Is that a 'no?'" Beast asked after dodging the shot. Beauty shot again. "So it's a 'maybe?'"

Not surprisingly, Beauty's resolve to till the Beast only increased after his proposal.

"Beast," she said to him one day, after her bowstring had snapped. "Why on Earth would you want to marry me? Marriage is a terrible thing."

Beast, who was peering over the second floor balcony into the ballroom Beauty stood in, cleared his throat. "I can't tell you why…. It's a very personal matter, you see…." He thought for a moment. "I'll tell you if you promise to marry me."

"No."

"But why not?"

"…What would the neighbors think?" Beauty asked.

After a few months, Beauty had begun to run out of weaponry. Most of her blades had been destroyed in one way or another; her hatchets and axe lost in the woods near the hunting lodge; arrows completely used up…. She needed to restock and spawned a plan to get home, as she had a great supply of armaments there.

"Beast," she said, holding out her arms to show that she was defenseless. "Would you please permit me to visit my parents?"

Beast inched out from behind a column and nodded. This would give him a chance to strengthen his defenses.

"Of course," he replied in a happy tone. "You may leave for a month. But you must return by the end of that month."

Beauty nodded and turned and left. Confident that, even though she had no way of protecting herself, she was more terrifying than any creature she could run into in the woods.

Apparently the animals felt this way, too, for they stayed as far away from her as possible.

When she reached her family homestead, Beauty was amazed to find her mother wandering about in the front garden with a large bump of a stomach.

"Beauty!" her mother cried when she looked up and saw her daughter. "What are you doing back?"

Beauty quickly explained what had happened in the last half year. When she was done, her mother decided to explain how a pack of wolves had snuck into the house one night, eaten Alan and that Meg had now remarried and was five months pregnant.

"Oh, right, and your father sold all your gear."

Less than an hour later, the local blacksmith knew he would be able to retire early.

After a month, Beauty went back into town to collect her new arsenal, discovered that the blacksmith had a poor work ethic and resigned to wait another several weeks for him to finish crafting all her weapons.

Back at the castle, Beast had begun to worry that Beauty may not return. It had been a month and two days since she had left, and there was no sign of her. Beast stopped eating.

Beauty finally returned a week past when she had promised. She had her weapons all strapped to her and resolved to find the Beast and end this ordeal all together.

She searched through the castle and grounds for over an hour, eventually just calling out for him. When at last she found him in a small cave, Beauty nearly jumped for joy. He was sleeping—so she thought—and she quickly pulled out a dagger and crouched down next to him.

For a moment, Beauty hesitated. She had never spent so much time trying to kill something before; life would feel so empty with him gone.

An idea struck her.

"Beast," she said, placing the dagger on the ground and nudging him. "Wake up, Beast."

He did not respond.

"Beast," Beauty raised her voice. "Get up, Beast!" She began searching for a pulse or sign of breathing, but found none. "Beast! Don't die on me, Beast! Don't you dare die on me you bastard!"

She began crying. If Beast did indeed die, she wanted it to be by her own hand. "Please, Beast. You can't die!"

"Does this mean you'll marry me?" he whispered so softly Beauty could hardly hear it.

"Y-you're alive!" She paused and thought for a while about his offer. Her parents' marriage being in the forefront of her mind, Beauty quickly decided that marriage may be nothing but another way to get back at someone and agreed. "Yes, Beast, I shall marry you."


End file.
